


Howl To The Moon For Me

by UnveiledPassions



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: About Post-Season 2 if this was canon, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Blackouts, Blowjobs, But don't know it yet, Derek and Stiles are Mates, Explicit Sexual Content, Fingering, M/M, Memory Loss, Top!Stiles, alpha!Derek, bottom!Derek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-06 09:13:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnveiledPassions/pseuds/UnveiledPassions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A howl echoed through the night, and Stiles was drawn to it. He even blacked-out, and doesn't remember the strange man that helped him home, or what happened afterword. I guess he will just have to find out...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lunar Seduction

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I know I need to finish chapter 5 of "And the Feelings Unveiled", but I lost inspiration on that, so I decided to start dabbling in some more AU stuff. This also follows a bit of the storyline of the song "Howl" by Florence and the Machine, so if you guys know that song, you get an idea about what this will be about. This is just a preview, but if you guys want some more, please let me know! Tags will be added as the story progresses.

The moonlight shown thought the dim-lit room, shadows danced and fought the light. Stiles sat in his desk chair fidgeting and rushing to finish his 15-page Chemistry paper that was due:  _TOMORROW_. His hands moved furiously, pounding on the keyboard as if his life depended on it. He really could care less about why rubbing alcohol reacts in milk, but if he wanted to get a good grade on the assignment, then he would have to try his best.

_God, Stiles… Why do you always have to wait till the last minute?! Ughh… This is going to take forever, and I'm only on page 5!_ Stiles groaned with frustration. The stress was tangible in the room as little beads of sweat were wiped from Stiles' brow. He glared at the clock. Eleven o-clock.

_Maybe a little food will motivate me…_ A smirk appeared on the young man's face as he jumped off his desk chair, momentarily stretching his legs. For a moment, he felt slightly dizzy. The room spun with colorful vertigo, the lights on his computer making a mirage in the dark room. Stiles quickly regained his balance, and he slowly made his way to the door that was previously flung ajar, not wanting to trip over the vast array of clothes and papers that happened to be strewn freely about the ivory carpet of his bedroom. It was inevitable, though, the floor called to him. He, a lummox surely, would trip over any obstacle that was placed on the ground in front of his unstable feet.

_Join me, Stiles…_ It said, beckoning him to just lie down; never to wake. He tripped over the textbooks he forgot that he had placed there earlier this evening. He groaned once more, pushing himself up with the scrawny arms he had been given, and lazily pulled himself to his feet. It didn't help that his body was already aching, screaming to be let to drift off. Stiles refused to sleep, putting his academics first, himself the last on the vast list of things to worry about. He hadn't slept for 3 days.

The thing was, nobody cared, or even noticed that Stiles was screaming on the inside; a whole array of precipices pulling him towards the edge, waiting for him to fall to his undoing. The people around him had enough of their own shit to deal with in their lives. He expected them to at least think, not of just themselves, when they asked him for his help. His life was the one thing that did not belong to his friends, and he wanted to keep it that way.

Stiles ran down the stairs. His mouth was already watering with anticipati on and he yanked on the refrigerator door, hard, and the whole mass shook. Stiles licked his lips. He stood there for a second, his pale ears perking up with heightened sensitivity. The fridge stood wide open, as he cautiously stalked to the front door , old floorboards creaking beneath him.

His pupils dilated, and his entire body tensed, trying to muster up some of the little free-will he still had left. He opened the door, chin rising so that his eyes could catch over the big mass in the sky staring down at him. The full moon was breath-taking. The little ringlets of light fluttered down to meet him, and he accepted them with a look of awe. He stared out into the night; he heard something that resembled a growl. It snapped him right back to reality. He realized what he had been doing.

_But, it can't be._ Stiles told himself.  _It's not possible._ With that, he took a large step back, and practically slammed the front door. He stopped just short when he realized that his Dad was sleeping just upstairs. It was also that Stiles was compelled to walk straight for the sound, regardless of the danger that may lie ahead. He took a subtle step forward, his muscles betraying his commands to set him free.

The next thing Stiles knows, is he is cracking his eyes open after what seems to be a very long night. He flipped on his back, the soft cotton mattress squeaking underneath him. He keeps getting these flashes of what he assumes to be his memory starting to come back. He blinks in defiance of the strange feeling. They come in a mess of little blips that don't make sense on their own. It just leaves a very confused Stiles staring at the ceiling, until his brain can put the puzzle pieces together.

_Forest. Tripping underneath the soft glow of the moon._

Stiles was in the forest… But why? Why not the mall, or somewhere that you wouldn't mind being during a full moon? The one place you don't wanna be during the full moon; lunatics running about the shadows, killing; their prey defenseless against their strong arms.  _YES._ Stiles called them lunatics, but he read enough werewolf mythology to know the truth. That the myths, weren't exactly  _myths._

Stiles had no idea what he was doing in the forest, but he certainly didn't chose to be there. Not with his pap-  _Oh shit!_ He couldn't believe that he forgot his paper. He needed some time to think, jog his memory. Perhaps a day off school wouldn't be so bad.

Stiles slowly rose from his position on the bed, which could be perceived as strange depending on which angle you looked at it, and how you defined "strange". He was afraid of the vertigo that usually overcame him when he got up too fast, his body moving faster than his mind could process. Standing, he thought for second, arms shielding his half-naked body from the chill of the breeze oozing from the window.

_A man. A STRONG man. Broad shoulders. Glowing red eyes that pierced the night. He appeared so suddenly, presumably from nowhere._

Ooooh... So Stiles saw a man. He was quite happy that he spent the night with such a handsome man. He remembered the man in greater detail now. He had hair that rivaled the night sky, and scruff that just pierced the skin. His eyes were a dark brown; the pupils had been almost completely dilated when they weren't glowing an obscene shade of red. His eyes dulled, and he looked kind of sorry, like he had something to apologize for.

The man disappeared just as quickly as he came, turning his body in one swift motion. He was… sort of… graceful. Stiles' mouth gaped open, a light bulb going off in his head. He almost fell at the realization. Not that it would be a shocker, since he did do a lot of falling….

The man he had witnessed had been a werewolf. Not just any werewolf, but an alpha; he had only read about such things. Witnessing it now, he was disappointed that he couldn't convince the alpha to come back to his place. Maybe ask some questions….

He came back from his fantasies to find himself sitting, probably happened about the second of the realization, if not millisecond. He half-heartedly struggled to his feet, finding them slightly cut up.

_Cuts. Rocks. Ground. Dragging his bloody feet across the hallowed ground._

He must have forgotten the shoes part of the equation last night, when he had strayed from the comfort and safety of his own home. He winced when he took a step towards the bathroom, and was plagued with a sharp pain that flashed through his body like lightning. However he had gotten home, he was sure he didn't walk. Forgotten pebbles were still plastered to his clammy feet.

That is when Stiles realized that he didn't know how he had gotten home….


	2. Red Eyes Wears Leather Jackets

Stiles rummaged through his room to find something,  _anything,_ that would help him figure out the missing pieces from last night. The morning was slightly chilling, cooling the edges of the room as Stiles searched. He practically threw aside a stack of books that were lazily sitting on his desk, sending them clashing to the floor without remorse. Stiles paused in his tracks. A leather jacket was sprawled messily on his desk under where his books had been not two minutes ago. He frantically spun his head around, confused for a second. He didn't own any leather jackets.

Stiles pondered in his thoughts for an explanation. He silently castigated himself for being such a novice with the whole " Ima detective inspector" thing. And the destitution continues with his predicament…

Perhaps there was more to last night than Stiles thought.  _Maybe._  He still couldn't figure out why the jacket was placed oh-so-carefully under his books instead of just thrown haphazardly on his desk. The wooden piece of furniture was a mahogany so dark that you could say that it was sanguinary or really scrumptious, dark cherries if you wanted to sound vulgar. He removed the jacket, and saw the fresh stain lain on the desk from the night before. He had unintentionally knocked over a whole can of orange soda he had been drinking while he wrote. He had practically desecrated the beautiful blood-red of the wood. The viscid can had been discarded, and the jacket showed no trace of said stickiness on it.

If the jacket had been there when Stiles had spilled it at,  _oh_ , 7 o'clock when he had spilled the slimy carbonated beverage, then it too would be a mess. Probably soaked through, and completely ruined despite his efforts, that would have been, to clean it. That would mean that  _someone_  had placed it there during the duration of the time period he had no recollection of. Don't look at Stiles! He doesn't own any leather jackets. Considering that if he did own one, he would most like ly never wear it, warily carrying on with his life.

"This is ludicrous!" Stiles whimpered aloud to himself. "It was probably Red Eyes, he would have carelessly left his jacket here!" Stiles was right the man did seem the type for leather, and albeit he looked oh-so-fine in it as well. He picked a good time to exclaim his thoughts aloud, for his exhaustive father was walking by his bedroom door, and had decided to say goodbye before he left for work. It truncated his thoughts, desisting them.

"Son, I just wanted to-" his father started a little sheepishly, halting for a moment when he looked up and saw the state of his son's room. "Stiles! What are you on about? And what happened to your room?! Do I need to take away your computer to get you to clean it? Son, just do it! …And have a nice day."

"I'm fine dad, just… looking for something." Stiles gave a nervous laugh, hoping his father didn't notice the  _nervous_  part of it. "And no you don't, I got it."

He mumbled something under his breath resembling "I prefer Narnia…" and then just a whole gaggle of incoherent white noise. This is when Stiles flopped down on his bed, earning a squeak from the arrangement of springs beneath him. He heaved a sigh, prompting his father to questioningly, slowly close the door to his son's bedroom, which was in a serious state of distress.

"Oh! And Dad?" Stiles raised his voice quite effectively. His dad frighteningly opened his door, peeking through only enough to catch his son's eyes.

"Yeah?"

"I thin-*cough*-k I'm comi-*cough*-ng  _downwiththeflu._ " He said the last part in one breath so that he wouldn't have to fake another cough.

"Fine. Be a truant for all I care. You have to live with yourself…" His tone was cantankerous, harsh, sarcastic even. He knew that he would get a resemblance of something salutary later. A lesson; he was sure of it. His father looked down for a moment, and Stiles knew that he was thinking of his mother. "Just make sure you finish your work." He tone changed completely, and he faked a short, sad smile at Stiles. The sheriff shut the door without another word, stifling a small sob as he got into his car, and left for a long day.

Once his father left the house, Stiles' thoughts became more lucid than ever before. He  _needed_ to find Red Eyes. It would be hard. He didn't even know the guy's name, for christ sake ! All he had was an ambivalent description, blurred by the fog, and whatever had drawn him to the woods last night.

He mostly only remembered the glowing red eyes that shone through the night. And he knows, those impious red eyes had somehow pierced his soul. He didn't know how; wondered even. But they did.

His room was ornate with most of his possessions. From one side of his room to the other, there was almost no visible just-off-white carpet. The sun was just beginning to rise, and the little light that shone through the window, made shadows on the soft carpet. It was all covered by one thing or another. Stiles groaned, for he knew he would be spending most of his day picking all of this up, instead of doing what he really wanted, and that was looking for Red Eyes. He was hoping he could do it precipitously, so he could do some Detective Inspector things. He sure liked those  _things_. And he did, messily putting things back to where they belonged. He didn't really care too much to have things looking overly neat, so he just made things look presentable. After all, he never knew when a hot guy would just  _happen_ to show up in his bedroom.

Research wouldn't hurt. He needed to find out who Red Eyes was. Stiles pulled his desk chair over to the desk with a roll, and he shuttered the old laptop to a start. The old, rickety thing was a piece of crap. It took countless minutes to start, and it reboots constantly. Stiles needed to save his money for a new one.

He wouldn't forget his paper, though.  _Later,_ his mind told him. He would procrastinate once again. Not that Mr. Harris didn't hate him enough as it is.

He opened the browser, and pulled up the search engine. His hands hovered over the keyboard in anticipation. He lightly skimmed his fingertips on the smooth surface, and was surprised by the chill of the laptop. It had been left on the floor all night, no doubt collecting the cool breeze from the night that loomed over his head. Stiles wondered what in the world he should type in… not leather jackets.  _Oh,_ the images that should come up.  _NO._ Stiles, focus. So maybe strange animal attacks in the area? He read that with packs, animal attacks were common in the surrounding towns.

He let his fingers press the black keys of the keyboard, his fingernails tapping quietly on the surface of the plastic. Wow, he really needed to cut his fingernails, Stiles decided. Anyways, he typed in "Animal attacks in Beacon Hills, California." He was surprised how many results came up.

He scrolled down the page, his mouth slightly hanging open from the surprise. A man named Derek  _Hale_. Wait, Stiles heard that name before…  _Think, Stiles. THINK._ Realization hit him like a stack of million bricks, and he slammed right into it. Hale, the family that burned in the house fire 10 years ago, lynching 9 bodies; faulty electricity or something like that.

Derek got arrested for the murder of his sister, Laura, but was soon released for lack of evidence. The man in the picture looked  _just_ like Red Eyes, and he was wearing the same leather jacket as Stiles had on his desk. The picture was taken as he was hauled into his father's police car.

Stiles also found some weird articles on animals in the area; spiral-like tattoos on their bodies. He had read something about spirals in his many dabbles with the books on lycanthropy. It was like a mark, a symbol that claimed a territory for a pack, or an alpha.

He wrote down the address for the site of the previous arson. Stiles quickly grabbed his keys and his red hoodie. They were not far from where he last left them, in the middle of his floor. He put them there so that he wouldn't have to go searching for them when he was in a hurry. Expedient, it was. He also grabbed a hold of the leather jacket, and threw it over his shoulder. His intentions would be to give the jacket back, if Derek had asked. Stiles ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time. When he reached the bottom, he grabbed ahold of the brass door handle, and yanked open the front door. He scrambled for his jeep, practically falling,  _twice,_ in the process.

He plugged in the address on his GPS with shaking hands, after throwing the leather jacket on the passenger seat. Maybe, Stiles, you should have taken more Adderall this morning…. His jeep shuddered to life after he plunged the keys in, almost painfully, and forcefully turned them in their place. Stiles turned his head, peeking at the leather jacket as if it had eyes, second guessing if this was the right thing to do. Shaking away the notion, he skidded down the street. He didn't care if he was pulled over, all of the deputies knew not to give the sheriff's son a ticket. It always worked to his advantage. He smirked at the thought.

He reached a long dirt path, and wondered if maybe he plugged in the wrong address, or if his GPS was just plain stupid. Stiles kept plunging on, though. He was curious, after all, to see what was at the end of the path. His car roared a bit as he rounded the sharp turns with a little bit too much speed. He released the gas pedal and screeched to a stop in front of the charred mansion of a house. He took his keys out of the car, and stepped out of his car, the leaves crunching beneath his feet. Stiles shut the door forcefully, grabbing the jacket before he did, and took one step towards the house.

A wind caught his body in a trance and he was stopped in his tracks; his entirety ossified. Stiles looked up to one of the broken windows of the top floor. He saw the man in the pictures, Derek Hale. The man flashed his eyes red, but Stiles couldn't decode the look on the Derek's face into any one emotion.

"I know you can hear me, Hale." Stiles spoke with confidence, his eyes never straying from the other man's.

Derek came away from the window, and Stiles thought for a moment that he should just turn around and leave, but he was reminded of why he came. He wanted answers. Stiles eyes widened when Derek came through the front door, sin a shirt. He would never admit it, but his pupils dilated just the slightest.

The man's muscles protruded from the rest of his body, and shined under the sunlight of the early morning. He ran his fingers through his hair, letting the dark of it smother his fingers. His lips were luscious, like he had been drinking water. He shivered at the thought of biting said lips.

Stiles swallowed, and cleared his throat. "So?" He asked, a threat on the edge of his tongue, but he reigned it back in. He liked his face very much, he didn't want anything to  _happen_ to it.

"So what?" Derek asked back, annoyance invading the alpha's voice at the edges.

"So, why did I find your leather jacket in my room? And why were you in the woods last night, when I just happened to be there?" Stiles held up the leather jacket, and cocked his head to one side to aid the look of confusion on his face.

"You don't remember?" Derek edged closer. "When you hit your head, I checked it to make sure you didn't fall to o hard. I didn't think it was that bad…. I carried you home, and I must have left my jacket at your house…. Don't worry, though. I'm not some creep, I respected your privacy."

Stiles inhaled at Derek's inch forward. The other man smelled of sweat and cologne. Stiles' head spun and Derek had to steady him.

"Why don't we go inside? You should sit down." Derek looked concerned, his eyebrows furrowing at the sides. He clutched Stiles' biceps with his big hands, holding him in place. He made Stiles hook his arm around Derek's back so that Stiles could put his weight on Derek.

Stiles didn't mind, though. Derek was so built that he looked like he could carry twice Stiles' weight. When they got inside, Derek led him to a soft, maroon couch that was in the middle of what Stiles suspected was the living room; ostentatious in such a dreary environment. It looked so out of place; a nice looking couch, most likely new, in the middle of the beat-down house, nothing surrounding it except the capaciousness of the house. By the state of the house, a person could be led to thin k that whoever resided in the house would be impoverished, but assuming his family had insurance, he would have collected a large sum of money when they all died. Stiles nearly collapsed on the couch, exhaustion overtaking him. He must have gotten less sleep than he thought. How long had he been in the woods last night?

"What were you doing out in the woods in the middle of the night?" Stiles started, breaking the silence.

"I could ask you the same question." Derek responded, his voice becoming slightly darker, and a shiver ran through Stiles' body. "I don't even know your name, but you should be thanking me. Most people would have left you there."

"Thank you, Derek. I'm Stiles, by the way, sorry…." He trailed off, becoming more tired by the second.

"Interesting name…. Are you hungry? Thirsty? I could make you something." Derek was being too nice for someone who was previously accused of a felony. Not that Stiles was complaining. Hmmmm… maybe it was just him. Stiles  _did_ have that effect on people.

"Yeah, I'm kind of hungry…" His stomach growled angrily, reminding him of the breakfast he never had.

The sun was now up, now. The light shown through the holes in the windows, and it fell in little not-circles on the dusty hardwood floor. Derek turned and walked into the kitchen, his butt shaking slightly with every step he took. Stiles' eyes didn't leave the sight of Derek's backside until it disappeared behind the wall.

"Turkey or roast beef?" Derek shouted from the kitchen in between the soft  _pufffffffh_  of what he assumed was the refrigerator opening and closing. He walked to the doorframe, and leaned subtly on the frame.

"Turkey." Stiles' voice got a little bit visibly lower, and Derek's head snapped inadvertantly to allow his eyes to latch onto Stiles'. He held the other man's gaze for a moment. Derek let his eyes wander to the floor, and he cleared his throat.

"White, or wheat?" Stiles could tell that Derek was trying to keep his composure. So, it wasn't just Stiles then…. Stiles smirked when he knew the alpha wasn't looking.

"Wheat, cheese, and mayo… please." He added the last part trying to be polite. He remembered that the man had taken care of him; tucked him into his bed, checked on his head, even carried him home, for Christ sake!

"Okayyyyyy…."

Stiles took that as a queue, and walked into the living room, hugging his own body.

When Derek finished, he came into the living room and placed the ceramic plate on the coffee table. He sat next to Stiles, closer than he would have expected. Stiles surrendered to his hunger, finally sinking his teeth into the sandwich. He closed his eyes and moaned, chewing ever so slowly. When he opened his eyes, Derek was looking at him wide-eyed. Derek licked his lips, and hung his mouth open. It looked like he was trying to say something, but no words were coming out.

"Sorry…." Stiles managed, wiping the stray mayonnaise from his mouth with the side of his hand. He let the skin be dragged by his hand. He saw that Derek's eyes had been following his lips, leaning over even more with every second that passed. His stare was almost derogatory, and his eyes looked to Stiles' for approval. Stiles gave a quite nod and plunged forward, catching the other man's lips in a kiss. He stole just a few seconds, and then leaned his forehead against Derek's.

The next thing Stiles knows, he is being straddled on the couch, being rendered senseless by the rubbing of the other man's dick against his own. This was going much faster, and not to mention easier, than Stiles would have thought….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am taking prompts. Just little things to work into the storyline, or add as one-shots/new stories, so leave those in the comments! All the shows I am willing to write are on my profile, but I will also take requests for other ones, just in case I would like to give it a shot! Don't be afraid to share your prompts, I don't bite, much ;D See you guys next Friday! xx Shelby


	3. The Forgotten Sandwich

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoilerrrssss Sweeties ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Sorry about last week, things have been crazy, so I might not be able to give you a chapter next week, but I am staaying home Friday, so possibly!

Stiles was straddling the most gorgeous man he had ever seen, holding onto him for dear life as the sweet friction of denim on his crotch steadily increased. His head was tucked in the man's neck, moaning as he felt the rush of Derek's hot breath in his shoulder. He held on tighter, rocking back and forth slowly, teasing the other man.

Pausing, he pulled back to look in Derek's eyes. The dark chocolate brown eyes Derek possessed, mesmerized him and his head spun; pupils dilating even more if that was possible. He was snapped back to reality when he realized he barely even knew the man in front of him. Shaking his head, he stood up. Derek's arms did not restrain him, curious about why Stiles seemed eager to stop.

"W-w-w-e-we should stop… I hardly know you, Derek…." Stiles backed away, still facing Derek, eyes locked on tightly with the alpha's now glowing red ones.

Derek got up from where he was sitting, slowing stalking over to Stiles like he was prey. His eyes were now blood-red, and his voice was so low and full of lust that it made Stiles shiver.

"That didn't stop you before." The near growl that escaped from his lips when he finished had Stiles pushed up against a wall by the time it ceased. Derek now had one hand on either side of Stiles, fingers pressing so hard into the wall that his knuckles turned white. Stiles had no idea how the wall did not crumble on contact, coming undone by the force that was placed upon it so heavily.

Stiles tried to babble out some more excuses to leave, but they were all desisted when Derek's mouth licked the crook of his neck. The younger man almost slumped against the wall, practically losing all feeling in his limbs as the lightning strike of pleasure ran through his veins. His jeans were now almost unbearably tight. He clutched onto the Alpha's warm ass as he slid his nimble fingers down his sweatpants. Stiles couldn't comprehend how low they were hanging on Derek's hips, the older man's happy trail exposed for his eyes to wander. Squeezing the firmness, he earned a gasp. So short that it could have just been passed off as a simple intake of breath, when you weren't listening….

Derek placed a leg in between Stiles', and opened his eyes, pulling away from Stiles' neck. He placed his hands on the human's waist, pushing his fingers beneath the fabric, and pulling it over Stiles' head.

Stiles moaned at the warmth of Derek's bare skin touching his abdomen. He breathlessly gasped when Derek lifted his own shirt over his head, revealing his strong muscles. Stiles came away from the wall, hunching; drooling helplessly at the sight in front of him. His heart pumped the blood through his veins even faster when Derek took the remaining steps between them, closing the distance once more.

The alpha placed a hand on Stile's chest, and slid it down his body. Moaning, and throwing his head back, Stiles didn't realize when Derek stopped right at the younger man's happy trail to seek approval. When Stiles finally opened his eyes, Derek looked concerned. All he did was give a quick nod, and that was enough for Derek.

He knelt down on one knee, and grabbed the button on Stiles' jeans and ripped it open, unremorsefully. He clutched Stiles' thighs with his meaty hands, earning a gasp. Derek pulled down the zipper, painfully slow, with his teeth. He smirked at Stiles, the expression lingering on his face as he caught the other man's eyes. He left Stiles' gaze hanging in the wind as he pooled his companion's jeans on the hardwood. Left forgotten, the garment was kicked over to the side by a very eager Stiles.

Derek hooked his finger in the waistband of Stiles' boxers, letting his warm knuckles skim over Stiles' hip bones. Stiles shivered at the touch, blood creeping through his veins, nearly sneaking up on him. The alpha pulled down his undergarment with one swift motion. He growled seductively, and his eyes flashed that red that Stiles knew all too well.

Stiles threw his head back in complete bliss, ready for what was to come, lightly tapping his head on the concrete wall. What he didn't realize was that Derek was smirking, and was most certainly  _not_ ready.

Derek took ahold of Stiles' shaft, and plunged forward, taking it all in in one swift motion. The younger man moaned loudly, and arched his back against the wall. His ass felt the cool touch of the concrete, and just made him even more sensitive to the ministrations that Derek was doing. Derek let Stiles buck forward, not gagging when the human hit the very back of his hot throat.

Stiles clutched at the concrete, scraping his nails with a screech. He held on for dear life, praying to whatever was in the sky, that what the man in front of him was doing, didn't make him cum too prematurely. He felt the beads of sweat roll down his abdomen as his restraint started to dwindle.

Time became to lose its shape as Derek pulled away. Stiles was left throbbing as the cold air around them pierced his skin. He groaned in agony, and Stiles knew that the Alpha had only done it to be a sardonic bastard. The incessant torture continued, and Derek gave the younger man a sly smirk.

"Wha-… Why…. Uh… Huh? Why di-did you stop?! For chrissake, Derek!" Stiles was more overwrought than anything. He was heaving, trying to calm himself down.

"I want you to beg, on your knees for me, Stiles…" Stiles didn't realize how far away the older man had been until he was coming closer, swaying his hips almost deadly.

The laughter couldn't be contained from Derek's luscious lips as Stiles overtly tried to hide the shock on his face. But failed. Miserably.

_Now, it is Stiles' turn,_ the human thought to himself. Stiles took ahold of Derek's shoulders, and half-pushed, half-dragged Derek to the couch, and shoved him down on it. He had no clue, whatsoever, how he pulled it off. He climbed on the man and kicked off his boxers, only realizing they were still there when they restricted him from straddling Derek.

Derek chuckled at the sight. Stiles, fidgeting to get his boxers off his legs, tongue sticking out, his dimples showing on his face, and him not trying to hide his amusement. Although, when Stiles shifted slightly, the friction was just right, and he moaned inadvertently.

When Stiles had realized what he did, he turned to face Derek, and did it over, and over and over again; earning a series of moans from Derek that almost sounded like an incantation. It was so sinful, it was sanctimonious. If Derek was the devil, Stiles would surely give up his soul, hands down; no matter how impious.

Stiles knew that Derek was at the edge, of the precipice. He imagined that a thousand little lightning bolts were shooting through his veins, and only Stiles could stop it.

"I need you inside me Sti- NOW!" The last part was a roar, and Stiles obeyed, stopping to pull down the Sweatpants that were hanging on the Alpha's hips. They slid down like waves rolling down Derek's soft, tan skin. It glistened in the small amount of light that shown through the dark house.

Stiles reached up and courageously shoved three fingers into Derek's mouth without warning. His pupils dilated even more than before when Derek circled his tongue around his fingers, and hollowed his cheeks. The younger man quickly retracted his fingers, and pushed it into Derek's hole. He scooted down so that Derek's length was at his mercy, and licked up the shaft. He caught the vein on his tongue and traced it up the underside.

The alpha bucked his hips up as stiles added a second, and began pumping in and out of him. He was now circling the head with his tongue, and retracted so that he could push a third finger into Derek.

The older man was panting, toes clenched so hard it looked like he was going to break his muscles. He stared down at Stiles a hard look trying to burn his companion eyes out of his eye sockets. Not that Stiles noticed of course.

The pain wasn't that bad, compared to the pain he had formally endured. Stiles' fingers were kind of nice, actually…  _Did he REALLY just think that?!_

The anticipation was killing him, so he pushed a little on the nimble fingers, and Stiles reacted by pulling them out. He whimpered a little.  _Wait! Since when did big bad wolf…. WHIMPER. Of all fucking things!_ The things this puny human was doing to him. It made him want to knock down all of his internal walls with a wrecking ball, and just let all the emotions out in a grand catharsis. It reminded him of badly written Miley Cyrus songs; catchy, but nauseating. Derek hardly ever got stuck in his thoughts like this, but he was pulled out when Stiles started edging his way into Derek.

The alpha pushed back just the slightest, and Stiles slid all the way into Derek. Derek's legs hooked around Stiles' ass, pulling him even closer, and nudging him even deeper into Derek.

They moaned in unison, tendrils of electric current flowing through both their bodies like a circuit, and theirs was now complete.

The older man arched his back, signaling for Stiles to move, and he did just that. Derek bit his lip, releasing it with a large gasp as Stiles moved quicker. Precum was starting to drip down Derek's shaft in massive droplets.

That was Stiles' cue, and he wiped his thumb on the tip ever-so-slowly, earning a moan, and smudged the thick substance onto the digit. He then pulled out of Derek, holding his hips, and pulled the thumb up to his mouth. He licked up the finger, then plunged it into his mouth.

Stiles was merciless, and he grabbed Derek's thighs, only to pound into Derek; halting when he was as deep as deep would go.

"Again, Again…. Again, Stiles." It came out so weak, so helpless. And then Stiles saw a side of Derek he didn't know he would ever see. Ever.

So Stiles did exactly that, and a third, and a forth. Right before the fifth, Derek didn't think he could take any more.

"Stiles, I think I'm go- I am goi-"

"Come for me, Derek." And for once, Derek was the one who obeyed.

Releasing what was now Stiles', he came synchronized with Stiles. For that moment the world stopped spinning for Derek. And he knew, Stiles was his life now. There would be no world beyond him.

He would do anything, be anything for him. Stiles was his sunshine, and he couldn't bear for that one light to go out. He let the young boy collapse on him, and drift to sleep in Derek's bare arms. His warmth was all he needed. Both of them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will not be as typical as you guys think, there are some plot twists that I am planning, so keep that it mind ;) If you guys have any prompts, I can fit them in, or just make a new little fic-let :) You can post them on my tumblr, fanfiction, or here in the comments xx

**Author's Note:**

> Again guys, this is just a preview, so please comment/favorite/follow so I know that you guys want to see more of this! I am ahead, so don't worry about the posting ;)


End file.
